


I Gave Everything For You (Including Love)

by DulcetImagination



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are Dicks, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Headcanon, I think it's not too graphic?, M/M, Non-Graphic Torture, angels making deals, some torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DulcetImagination/pseuds/DulcetImagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why has destiel never made it's on-screen debut? Because Dean Winchester is one of the most important things in Castiel's life, and he can't be allowed to have that, now can he?</p><p>"We need to make you an example. Of what disloyalty to heaven costs. After all, falling isn't the problem if it's worth it, right? If you get what you want? So let's talk about Dean Winchester."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Gave Everything For You (Including Love)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during season five episode twenty, The Rapture, while Castiel is captured in heaven. It's my little tidbit of head canon as to why destiel has never been made canon. Enjoy! (Or weep over it because the angels are stupid idjits getting in the way of true love. Your choice.)
> 
> (Also, I'm not counting Anna because she just left, she didn't fight, not at first. You'll understand what I mean by that in a bit.)

There is a price for everything. And for Castiel's rebellion, well, there was a price for that as well.  
The hits kept coming.  
One after another, each blurring together into nothing more than cold metal and white-hot pain. The cut of an angel blade hurt, but after this Castiel believed he had a strong argument that being repetitively bashed in the face by one hurt more.  
The angel doing the torturing was silent as he remade Castiel's face. Castiel did his best to follow suit. The only sound he could perceive came from the silent moments, when the soldier would stop for Castiel to heal. Dripping blood made the most peculiar noise in heaven, hitting the ground with a slight ringing, like a tiny bell. The sound was as out of place as the liquid itself should have been in this place created to be paradise.  
Castiel's eyes begin to clear as his face reshaped itself, swelling back up with replenished blood. Not wasting any time, the angel resumed his demolition of his sensitive skin, only now with a fresh palette. Perhaps he should find joy in the fact that this unfinished healing of his eyes and face prevented him from having to see one of his brothers slowly destroying him, but he could not muster any.  
After what seemed like days, and very well could have been on earth, a voice rang out in the empty space, clearer and with more of a sense of belonging the lone drop of blood had been.  
"Stop."  
Just like that, the blows stopped.  
It took longer for Castiel's eyes to heal this time, as it seemed those had been a particular target this round, but when they did he found he was somehow unsurprised with the image before him.  
Yet he should have been. It is not every day a meager soldier such as himself is blessed with the presence of the archangel Michael.  
He was just as lovely, and cold, in his appearance as Castiel remembered him. He was never an angel that was easy to maintain brotherly love for, as their father demanded. The very sight of him radiated power, a power no one was allowed to touch. The air around him seemed purified just by his crisp cleanliness. Indeed, even the blood-soaked floor around him formed a clean circle, white and untouched.  
He strode closer to Castiel, hands clasped in a businesslike manner behind his back, parting the blood mess on the floor as approached.  
"Castiel, the first angel to rebel in this new war. It is truly sad, Castiel, that you should choose to betray your brothers and sisters in such a way."  
He shook his head, perfect blond hair not moving any inch from its neat waves. Castiel watched his pacing with curious and narrowed eyes, listening. He knew the reason he was here. He did not, however, know Michael's. He did not think one rebel, even the 'first', was worth an archangel like Michael's time.  
"I know you have come to care for them. It is understandable. You have been stationed there for a while now, and after all, they were among the favorite of our father's creations for a reason."  
Michael stopped now in front of the elevated and tilted table Castiel was strapped to. With a wave, he dismissed the angel who had attended to him previously. The room felt somehow bigger now, with nothing but vast unending whiteness, a bloody floor, and of course the pair of them.  
"Yet you are not doing them any favors. The end is foretold, and the only way it can end well in any way is for me to win this war for us. For all of us, angel and humans." Michael gave him a sad smile, as if it pained him to be their champion.  
"I do not want anyone to die. Sometimes though, it is the way of things. It is sad, but it will pass, and more human will eventually populate the earth. We can herald in a better future, a superior one, for those who remain and those to come. Why would anyone not support that?"  
Michael finished, and the way his gaze held Castiel's clearly asked more than the question he had spoken. It asked for trust in his statements, for his convection in the cause.  
Castiel's heart yearned to believe this. He had been created for this; for obedience. He longed to serve the greater good, and what good was mightier than this? Than light and heaven itself? As Michael's blue eyes held his own, he longing to repent. To restate is loyalty and to remind everyone, including himself, where he belonged.  
But in his mind, there was a man. A dirty, scruffy man not at all like the gleaming holiness of Michael. The memory of the man had stayed with him, the colors of his life and soul burning bright in Castiel's eyes even when they were bursting and bleeding. A man who did not smile falsely at the notion of being a hero, but kept his jaw in a hard line as he hung on to the foolish notion of saving every living soul. There were no sharp blue eyes with him, but soft green ones filled with something genuine Castiel had never seen the likes of before in heaven. The human being that reminded him why they fought for humanity in the first place. This is the man who remained in his heart and mind through all the pain. After all, Dean Winchester was not a human being that one forgot.  
The smile dropped from Michael's face when he saw Castiel's own far away expression. Castiel had little doubt in his mind that his brother had been taking every advantage of the abilities of heaven by skirting on the edge of his thoughts, watching the traitorous images of Dean flashing in his mind.  
"Unconvinced, Castiel? Or should I call you Cas, like your charges seem to be fond of doing? It is a much more human name, and you seem to be so very fond of them. Just remember, for all their beauty, they are filled with corruption and sin. We have to be the better beings. We already are the better beings, created to show them the way." Michael said, drawing himself up as he spoke.  
"You're wrong."  
Castiel's voice broke, partly from disuse and partly from nearly healed vocal cords.  
Michael looked affronted, as if Castiel had gotten up from the table and slapped him.  
"Is that so? Does this new philosophy of equality apply to all of them, or simply to my future vessel?" Michael's voice was hard.  
Castiel clenched his jaw, trying not to look startled, or react in any way.  
"Do not think I didn't see all of your thoughts. Even the ones you try to hide from even yourself." Michael hissed, composure breaking for a moment as he loomed over Castiel's face, very suddenly in his space. Those blue eyes that once were calming pools of water were now flashing fire.  
"What you're doing here won't change anything, Michael. I have pledged myself to help them. They have... a worthy cause. To protect their own kind. And the Winchesters do it out of love. Isn't that what our father valued most?" Castiel said, his own words fortifying the choice inside himself.  
With them he was crossing a line, choosing a side. Come of it what it may, it felt right.  
Michael drew back, swiping his fingers through his still-perfect hair as he composed himself. At least any remaining blood on his person had been repelled by Michael's proximity.  
"Do you know why I said you're the first angel to rebel Castiel? Because it's true. Not in this new generation, not since Lucifer long ago, has anyone dared to do it. I honesty do not think it has crossed the mind of any of the others. A meager foot soldier like you, rewriting the rules. Naturally, the punishment will have to be a first, just like you. In the midst of a war, killing you will not do. We will lose plenty of angels in the coming battle, and dissension among the ranks is the last thing we need to appear to have right now. So I'll make you a deal."  
Castiel did not like the sound of that. It was the demons who made deals, and they were supposed to be nothing like them. The cooler glint that had appeared in Michael's eyes, along with the confident little smile did nothing to ease his fears either.  
"We need to make you an example. Of what disloyalty to heaven costs. After all, falling isn't the problem if it's worth it, right? If you get what you want? So let's talk about Dean Winchester." With that, he snapped his finger and suddenly before him was Dean.  
Castiel's heart ached to moment he saw that face. It was clearly a live feed, one lacking any other image besides Dean Winchester’s person. The fuzzy images had him appear to be sitting on nothing, as well as conversing with the air. He must have been with his brother, as no one else could have created the smile currently on his face. Castiel watched as he lifted his hand to his face in a gesture clear indicative of eating. Pie. He must be eating pie. Pie was also something that would make him smile. Dean did not think Castiel noticed the subtle nuances of humanity, but he picked up on the things that mattered, if it was about the people that mattered.  
Castiel snapped out of his train of thought, forcing away the soft smile he had not realized had appeared on his face. He cut his gaze back to Michael, who was watching his as if he was a new species. He was probably not far from wrong.  
"Tell you what. It is clear that any of this is not going to change your mind." He waved his hand to the blood around the room. With another snap, the remained blood disappeared.  
"You can go back to earth. You can return to being do whatever you what to do, helping who you want to help. We won't destroy your vessel, cast you out, or kill you. But there will be a price. And that price is him." Michael pointed now back to image of Dean, who was currently chuckling at something. Despite everything going on around him, Castiel wished he knew what made him laugh.  
"If you go back and continue to be disobedient, you can never be with him. Oh, you can love him as much as you want, and he can even return your favor; but you'll never fulfill it. It will be the thing never spoken of, a touch never acknowledged. Nothing more than a profound bond, if you will." Michael finished, waving away the last words.  
Castiel voice caught. He knew what his face must have looked like, full of pain. There was no use in hiding it now, Michael was already taking advantage of his weak spot.  
This offer, it sounded like worse torment than anything they could do to him here. The one time Castiel had fallen, and he was being restrained.  
He watched the image of Dean, now studying something on what was presumably the table. There was lines around his eyes, tiny ones, only moments before creased with laughter now pressed from stress. Dean loved Sam more than anything, and no doubt that love gave his life meaning, but it was also the reason Castiel had been tasked to pull him from hell. No, Dean did not need more love. Castiel's love was too intense, too bright for him to even fully acknowledge, and much too powerful for the man who had already proven willing to sacrifice his life for it. Dean simply needed a soldier, someone whose love allowed him to never change, and always come when he called.  
Yet it still hurt.  
"Why?" Castiel asked, still watching the illusion. He had to know the reasoning, at the least.  
"So you will know our frustration. Of coming so close to getting something, your ideal scenario, your greatest desire, only to have it kept out of your reach. To teach you a lesson as well. That there will be always be sacrifice in war, no matter what form it comes in. Anything that discourages the others. So, do we have a deal? If you agree, you will never be able to consummate any type of romantic feelings between you two, no matter the outcome of this war. Never speak the words, never write it down, never tell him in any way that'll let him know the truth beyond a doubt: that you love him." Michael said, fingers poised and waiting for another snap to shatter his life.  
Castiel wasn't sure what he was giving up. All he knew was that he was gaining a chance; a chance to show his love in best way possible. To let his flame for this man, this insignificant human man that Castiel had chosen above all others, shine the brightest.  
By giving it all, all his love, all his selfish want for Dean, away for hope. For free will.  
"Yes."  
The echo of the solid snap reverberated across the room and across time, and even with closed eyes, Castiel felt the whisper as the illusion dissipated from the room.  
The image of Dean Winchester flickered away, gone, and indeed now made forever out of his reach. In many more ways than one, ways he could feel in his bones.


End file.
